The Most Important Question of Our Time
by Karalora
Summary: America invites the Nordics over for a TV binge. There may be no survivors. One-shot.


_A/N: I feel I should apologize up front, or something. I really have no excuse for this utterly pointless piece of drivel. It jumped into my head while I was trying to fall asleep and forced me to write it just so it would stop gnawing on my brain. No, seriously—I had to get back up and dash out the first draft in order to get any sleep._

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><p>Nothing much was happening when the text message came through. It was obviously from America:<p>

**can u guys come ovr plz? got sumthin 2 show u**

He did say "plz," so the Scandinavians shrugged and headed over to the superpower's house. They weren't entirely surprised to meet up with Iceland and Finland there. That boy had gotten it into his head somehow that the five of them came as a set.

America got them comfy in his rec room and began scrolling through the TiVo menu. "So what's this thing you want to show us?" said Sweden, acting as the spokesman as usual.

"I'm not sure myself," said America. "My sister wanted me to watch it, but it's no fun watching a new show alone."

"So why us?" said Denmark. "Why not Canada?"

"I dunno," said America. "'Cause the webcomic's named after you guys, I guess."

He found the saved program he was looking for. The Nordic countries did a double-take in four-part harmony (because Finland didn't make a sound).

"Really, America? _Really_?" said Sweden. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we're all grown men here."

"I know, but my sister says it's really good. And apparently a lot of guys like it too."

"My sister also says that," said Iceland. "It can't hurt to give it a shot. We can always just turn it off if it sucks."

It didn't suck. They let it run for hours, episode after saved episode, fascinated beyond all rationality. And when they finally ran out of material…

"No, that can't be it!" Norway protested.

"Sorry, guys," said America. "That's all I've got. I'll let you know as soon as the TiVo catches more of them though."

"I'm impressed," said Sweden. "It actually wasn't half-bad. A little frivolous, maybe, but considering the target audience, it's got some solid writing."

"Now we just need to figure out one thing," said Denmark. He stood up on the couch, inhaled deeply, and bellowed, "_Which pony is best pony?_"

"DUH!" said America. "It's clearly Applejack!"

"In your dreams, Yankee Doodle!" Denmark retorted. "Pinkie Pie, all the way! Back me up, Norway!"

"Hey now!" said Norway. "I like Fluttershy the best!"

"You're nuts!" said Denmark. "The wallflower? Give me the party pony!"

"_You're_ nuts!" Iceland broke in. "Rainbow Dash, for the win!"

"Nuh-uh!" said America. "Applejack! She's a well-rounded tomboy without being an obvious butch lesbian stereotype! _Nuance, bitch!_"

"You're _all_ nuts!" said Sweden. "Are you even listening to yourselves? It's a children's cartoon show about magic ponies, and you're getting into a screaming match over which is the best character! Besides," he added, "you can't argue with Twilight Sparkle."

"That sounds like a challenge!" said Denmark. "Twilight wasn't so smart in 'Feeling Pinkie Keen,' now was she? Ha! That proves me right!"

"I'm not going to get sucked into another silly fight with you, Denmark. I don't need to convince anyone in order to know I'm right."

"That's loser talk, Sweden!" Iceland jeered.

"Loser talk? For backing the one pony who could completely _own_ all the others with her magic?"

"Could Twilight Sparkle ever produce a Sonic Rainboom with her lame nerd magic? Huh? Didn't think so! Rainbow Dash kicks _everyone's_ ass and looks good doing it!"

"If it came down to ass-kicking," said Norway, "Fluttershy would have every creature in the forest on her side. Try to beat _that_."

"And Applejack would have her whole clan on _her_ side," said America. "Sauna Boy knows I'm right, don't you, Sauna Boy?"

"Yeah, Finland, you haven't given your opinion yet," said Denmark. He leveled a finger at the taciturn nation. "_Which pony is best pony?_"

Finland got out his notepad and a well-chewed stub of pencil and began writing with painstaking slowness. Periodically he looked up to see the other five staring at him, breathless with anticipation. It just made him go slower, to drag out the tension.

Finally, he turned the pad around. It wasn't a word. It was a picture. Three diamonds.

"_Rarity?_" Iceland squawked. "That stuck-up _bitch_?"

Finland hit Iceland over the head with his liquor bottle.

The End

(Of the story, not the debate. The debate shall rage eternally.)

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><p><em>AN: Just so we're clear, the opinions expressed in this piece are not my own._


End file.
